


Silent Duck

by Hambone



Category: Bloodborne (Video Game)
Genre: Anal Fisting, Anal Play, Double Penetration, M/M, Masochism, Masturbation, Religious Guilt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-13
Updated: 2020-02-13
Packaged: 2021-02-28 05:54:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,494
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22688812
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hambone/pseuds/Hambone
Summary: Alfred helps a man relieve one of the afflictions of beasthood.
Relationships: Alfred (Bloodborne)/Other(s)
Comments: 5
Kudos: 60





	Silent Duck

**Author's Note:**

> Another short thing to get me back into my longer and more involved fics. I just love Alfred being a butt-slut for the men of Yharnam what can I say. And fisting! Always fisting. 
> 
> Enjoy!

“Relax yourself,” said Alfred, smiling benevolently to the man as he entered the small shed, “I am certain we can resolve this issue post-haste.”

“I’m sure,” said the man, scratching at his neck offhandedly, the front of his trousers visibly bulging. His skin, where Alfred could see it, seemed red and raw already, and Alfred’s smile became a bit pitying. Those afflicted with burgeoning beasthood often found themselves assailed with all sorts of aches and pains, the least of which being the irritation of the flesh where fur had begun to sprout. It was a deep shame to see, but Alfred knew the ways of the plague were beyond his own capabilities, and beyond prayer the only thing he could do for these unfortunate souls was alleviate some of the burden of their animal needs.

He knelt down, carefully sweeping back the skirts of his robe so as not to have them trod on, and reached for the man’s belt.

“This will be over soon,” he soothed, undoing the buckle swiftly, “I promise.”

“Ah,” said the man, staying him with a hand, “just a moment, lad.”

Alfred did not begrudge him the diminutive. The man was disheveled, sweating, anxious as his transformation cause him grief. His cock was pressed against his pant leg, clearly visible where it lay, thick and starving. Alfred’s throat loosened, salivating with the desire to pacify the want of the disadvantaged.

“Sir?” he asked, looking up through his thin lashes. The man’s eyes were black and beady beneath the brim of his hat, ringed with darkness.

“It’s not just a mouth I need, but a warm body.” He licked his lips. “I hear you let men spill themselves over your fat rump.”

Blushing healthily at his crude manner, Alfred allowed himself a gentle smile.

“If that is your need, a man of the church such as myself can only do his best to oblige.”

He spun about on his knees, again reaching behind himself to lift up his skirts and cape, revealing his backside as he leaned down onto his hands and knees. Of course, he would never deny such a request. If a beast was so desperate as to proposition a man of the cloth, clearly his condition was grave, and it would only lead to his exacting his desires upon another, less accepting victim should he be allowed to roam freely in such a state. As a battle hardened hunter, Alfred was best suited to take the brunt of such grievances off the common man, carrying their burdens upon his shoulders with humility and kindness.

“You are big, aren’t you?” the man exclaimed happily. It was entirely true, though Alfred was too humble to see it himself. He’d always been built large, a working man from birth, and his long years serving the church had only enhanced his physique in all the right places. The man crouched down behind him, grasping his buttocks in both hands and giving them a good squeeze like a man testing meat at the market.

“Lovely!”

Letting him grope around as he pleased, Alfred undid the tie at the back of his trousers and began to slide they and his underclothes down. He was already becoming excited, and his cock bounced out eagerly between his legs, just beginning to harden. He let the cloth bunch beneath his knees, a bit of padding between himself and the hard floor, spreading his thighs just enough to give easy access without stressing the fabric. As the flesh had been bared to him the man had not once paused in his exploration, feeling the weight of Alfred’s ample backside in his upturned palms.

“You take it up here often, huh?” he asked, grasping one plump cheek in each hand and spreading them apart to get a good look at his asshole. Alfred’s cock visible throbbed as he was exposed.

“I am a veteran Executioner,” Alfred said mildly, “I have much experience helping those in your positon.”

He neglected to mention that this was not in his training, nor a service offered by any other of his brotherhood than himself, as far as he knew at least. The man chuckled gruffly. Using one hand to keep Alfred spread and accessible, he rang the index finger of the other down the cleft of Alfred’s ass to his hole, circling it with excited little motions. Humming pleasantly, Alfred stayed perfectly still, allowing himself to be felt out. Whether he had experience in such matters or not, the man was not poor in his execution. His touch was firm enough without causing discomfort, and he spent a good while simply teasing the area out, tracing up and down around his hole, stopping over it just to rub the rim enough to make Alfred bite his lip before again leaving him. However odd it may be to be treated so carefully by a turning man, Alfred questioned it not. Each transformation of the plague manifested differently, after all, in the subtle ways a man expressed his needs. This was no different.

It wasn’t until he began to work his finger a little harder at the closed pucker that Alfred came back to himself for a moment, opening his eyes before he had even realized they’d shut.

“Oh!” he said, reaching into his pockets, “I nearly forgot!”

While not specifically intended for this purpose, the oils used to lubricate the joints on the Logarius Wheel, named after his esteemed and radiant Master, worked quite well upon the body. It was a much more fine substance than that used for normal weapon maintenance, specifically brewed by the Executioners themselves in their workshop, a secretive blend of holy herbs that produced a light but noticeable spice in the air, aromatic and invigorating. It was blessed by His hand, and so provided both the needed protection on their implements of purification as well as upon their flesh and blood bodies, making them less appetizing to beasts and repelling the plague. He often felt safer in his intimate interactions when using it, an extra bulwark against ill intent. That being said, it had never seemed to cause any discomfort to the men he had utilized its more simple properties within the past, and as he produced the bottle he carried on him now the man behind him snatched it up with no sign of hesitancy.

“Use as much as you like,” said Alfred, “don’t mind the smell.”

Clearly he did not, dumping a hefty glob on to his outstretched fingers. The brief contact was not enough to warm it, and Alfred steeled himself just in time to silence his reaction as cold slickness pressed eagerly to his flesh. Still, the anticipation of what was to come had him rocking his hips back encouragingly against the touch, prompting a single finger to slip inside his hole almost immediately.

“Oh!” Alfred sighed, dropping from his elbows till his chest rested comfortably upon the flooring, crossing his arms below his cheek, “keep going!”

“Soft one, you are,” the man mumbled, mouth wet, and he screwed his finger around inside of Alfred to test his limits, a little unprepared for how easily he was accepted.

It was not unusual for the men who required his services to enjoy his body thoroughly before they brought their own pleasure to hand, so Alfred was not particularly surprised. While advanced beasthood took away the eccentricities of their human side, anyone able to mask their slow transformation retained those qualities, and many still had the desire to visit their lusts upon a willing partner. He relaxed himself, listening to the quiet smacking of wet skin on skin. The pleasant tingling in his groin had grown and spread, that little place inside his ass awakening as it was brushed over with a warm thrill.

Very soon he had three fingers inside him, and still his body gave willfully, opening wide with each scissoring motion made. Alfred remained as still as he could, letting the man take the lead with his indelicate probing, though the more he was toyed with the harder this became. As inexperienced as the man seemed with this particular form of play, his hands were the rough hands of a laborer, intuitive by nature, and he pressed and prodded all the right places, making Alfred’s blush spread to the tips of his ears. Every twist and turn forced him wider apart, aching inside him, only to be immediately soothed away by long, lingering strokes against his tender flesh. The process was too slow to build a great deal of friction, maddeningly teasing and yet still enough to have him fully erect and leaking. When a fourth finger prodded him, Alfred reached back and held his ass apart momentarily, allowing him easier entry.

“Such a lovely arse you have,” repeated the man, rubbing his fingers in and out affectionately. So heavily lubricated was he that his asshole made filthy sounds with each thrust, eagerly sucking his fingers in and very reluctantly relinquishing them, even if the drag across his prostate was horribly delicious every time. Alfred had his eyes closed and his mouth open, letting out soft little pants of satisfaction every now and then.

“So giving,” he continued, “I could almost get me whole hand inside.”

“Goodness!” said Alfred, trying very hard to sound shocked, “what a thing to say!”

He looked back over his shoulder, wriggling his hips slightly back against the man, who turned his four fingers horizontally inside him until his hole was stretched outwards, bubbling with oil. The action made him burn wonderfully and Alfred had to bite the knuckle of his glove very hard to keep quiet, eyes rolling upwards.

“I mean it,” said the man, and as he did he pushed his hand in deep, tucking his thumb. He did not manage the whole thing on his first attempt, just the tip of his final digit pushing against the stretched rim of Alfred’s hole, but it was enough to make Alfred squirm and curl his toes, looking over his shoulder almost mischievously, his heavily lidded eyes blinking long and slow.

“Oh!”

The man pulled out completely, admiring the way Alfred’s hole refused to close fully, before diving in again, this time popping in to the first knuckle of his thumb far more easily than he should have been able. Alfred cooed, screwing up his face in pleasure and letting his head fall back onto the cushion of his hands.

“Yes!”

The third time the man forced in all the way, paused by the strain of Alfred’s body to accommodate him and then, so suddenly it was almost startling, pushing past that limit and being engulfed. He was sweating almost as much as Alfred, licking salt from his mustache as Alfred twitched and rolled on his knees, glancing back at him every so often as he crammed his glove into his mouth. Inside he was hot, raw, the lining of his ass like silk against his rough hands. Enraptured, he pulled out again, this time with an intentional sluggishness, watching as Alfred’s asshole spread wide around his hand, until it was bright and quaking at the thickest point, his muscles fluttering to close. Still, obedient and willing, Alfred did not complain at all, merely breathing hard and fast through his hands, blinking up at him with wet and hungry eyes.

He pulled out with a slick sound, keeping his hand poised, and just when Alfred seemed about to speak or move he dove back in. Alfred squealed a bit, kicking up his heels as he clenched down hard, filled enormously. Every time he was entered the man’s fingers stroked against him, pushing out his bowel in ways it was never meant to be pushed, torturing his prostate with light touches that weren’t quite schooled enough to have focus. He almost wanted to reach back and guide him, show him exactly how he should be abused, but that would be most improper and so he resigned himself to chewing the leather of his gloves like a dog.

“Hell,” said the man breathlessly, trying to curl his fingers, “you’re like an oven inside.”

Alfred made a small noise of affirmation despite not really having heard him, too busy forcing his hips to hold still as he was unnaturally stirred around. It was so good, so wonderful. His cock was throbbing between his legs, hanging heavy as fruit about to split, a steady stream of precum drawing threads between his prick and the floorboards. At this angle it was pressed up against his belly, into the folds of his robe, and Alfred knew it would leave stains and he would have to scrub them out, or be caught and seen and known for his sinful ways, an idea which sent another longing pulse to the root of his cock, to the hand rummaging about in his ass. If he was seen, he’d surely be punished, having shamed not only himself but his order, his Master, his church. How wickedly cruel those hands would be upon him, and rightly so, flaying his skin with floggings, rending his flesh, perhaps even spreading him till he tore on the pear and leaving him for all to see with his bare bits out and his shameful insides shown, just as the man was seeing them now, finally curling his hand into a proper ball and making Alfred moan loud and low through his fingers.

“You like that, yea?”

The man laughed breathlessly, and he again pulled his fist all the way out, again slow and painful, and Alfred nodded emphatically while his eyes nearly crossed. His asshole clung around the man’s fist, bowing outward until he ripped himself free. Utterly shameless, Alfred’s hole remained wide and winking, desperate for more. The man muttered something else and then Alfred felt multiple sets of fingers enter him again, two from each hand. With little warning the man pulled at him and Alfred choked on his own drool, the stretch intensifying massively as he was held open wide. He was being viewed, lewdly exposed in a way no one had ever seen him before, and his muscles could not help but flex open and closed as another powerful wave of depravity rocked him.

“Oh,” he cried out through his hands, “don’t look at me so!” but the enthusiasm in his tone betrayed any sense of real upset he tried to project, too aroused to hide the way his cock was bobbing with the beat of his heart.

“Almighty,” said the man, not really a response, and one hand did come away to dip into the oil again, his other two fingers still pulling Alfred’s ass up and open, and the well trained hole remained wide and wanting. He scooped up a gratuitous handful of the stuff, messily shoveling it inside of him. It was still a little cold and Alfred jumped and huffed loudly, involuntarily squeezing shut some at the sensation, forcing the lubricant out of himself and down his perineum, tickling the back of his balls. Not one to waste, the man dutifully caught the dribble and pushed it back up inside him, this time screwing it in deep with three of his fingers. His other hand, no longer holding Alfred open, fumbled for his trouser button, slippery and barely capable, but Alfred could not find the words to ask if he needed assistance, though the thought floated dreamlike through his mind, being thrust into without mercy. His hips were bouncing back into his hand now, Alfred having given up resistance finally, too overwhelmed by the desire to be pounded.

There was no way Alfred could ever truly deny himself. Masturbating oneself was wrong, drew the mind away from the simplistic and dedicated life of a Soldier of Heaven, doing dirt upon the holy act of procreation that the Great Ones so desired. That being said, the act of anal penetration had never been discussed in any of the scriptures, as far as Alfred had read, and for good reason, he assumed; after all, while bringing great physical gratification, it was also an act of pain and humiliation, the dirtiest and most animal place upon his body used as a vessel for need. Surely, the very nature of the act made it a penitence for the sexual release it incurred, just as self-flagellation brought him the pleasure of spiritual release in exchange for his blood. While bringing pleasure to another man in such a way was a bit of a grey area, Alfred was never one to read deeply between the lines, and as long as his own sinful flesh was not touched by another person, it could not truly be an act of sex, and therefore his participation was one only of aid to a man, or sometimes group of men, in need.

Having worked his prick free, the man again balled his fist, knuckles grinding one by own against his prostate, and Alfred let the memory of such times settle behind his eyelids. When the blood turned bad, and men could not help themselves, it was only a kindness, after all, to prevent them from causing harm to some poor soul later, should they go unsatisfied for too long. How he had learned in time to swallow a cock to the base, breathing in the musk of a man deeply as his throat was throttled from the inside, or the time when several men, fur sprouting from their shoulders and the backs of their hands, had sought him for assistance in cooling their hot blood one by one till he was shaking with exhaustion and gratification, the naughty secret carried in him all the way home until he could find the uncertain privacy of the abbey wash closet and push out their still searing jism. How once he had even taken two men inside himself at once, squatting over their cocks as they sat on either side of him, twisting at his nipples and pulling his hair.

So caught up was he in his visions that Alfred let his hand snake between his legs at last, grasping at his swollen balls and squeezing to the point of pain. How full they were, desperately throbbing each time the man punched into his gut, a little deeper each time. He was stretched so wide around the man’s fist, his wrist, every movement burning inside him.

“What a welcoming arse,” the man was saying, jerking himself off awkwardly as he pushed in hard, groping around with his fingers until Alfred was trembling, “just takes it all.”

“Please,” Alfred garbled out, “use me to your heart’s content!”

“Yea,” the man whispered, and he sat up onto his knees, still working at Alfred’s prostate. Thinking nothing of it, Alfred continued to massage his balls and chew a hole through his glove, humping back into the pressure inside of him, even as the man pulled his fist back and held it there, the palm keeping his hole wide open. He was surprised, though not alarmed, when something else began to press insistently at his ass.

“What’s that?” he managed, trying to again see behind him, but his own proud buttocks blocked his vision. The man ground their hips together, and all at once Alfred understood. Before he could comment, the man spoke.

“You can’t expect a man to simply watch,” he said, lips turned up a little more than natural at the corners, “but I don’t reckon your hole here would satisfy either of us with just my Johnson now, would it?”

Alfred wanted to reassure him that this was simply not true, and that he was entirely capable of tightening himself back to what was required, but found himself producing no sound but a high groan as the man’s cockhead began to force its way inside along his busy fist.

“Besides,” the man grunted, “this is my strong hand.”

With how loose and slippery Alfred’s ass was by this point, it was hardly a difficult task to accomplish. Alfred’s mouth hung open, saliva dangling from his chin, as the man seated himself fully inside him, the base of his groin as close at it could get while keeping his hand in place.

“That’s a good lad,” the man murmured, breathlessly patting him with his now freed palm, right hand flexing in his ass.

“Great Stars!” Alfred was gasping, so winded he could hardly move. He was so full, so incredibly stretched, heat boiling in his belly wildly. He wished he could see himself, see how his asshole turned flush with effort, swollen and sore, wonderfully so, gleaming with the abundant oil that even now ran down his inner thighs in fat rivulets.

Not giving him time to recover, the man shifted his hand inside, opening his fingers some, and every movement crushed against his prostate brutally. Alfred tried to swallow but it seemed to hardly help, his every breath coming now with a small, strained whine. Where he had been caressing himself he now reached up further, curling into himself until he touched the taut rim of his hole. Still the pressure inside him grew, pushing and pushing until he was sure his stomach would pop like an overfed tick, but it didn’t, and his cock drooled obscenely between them.

“That’s it.”

The man was rotating his hips slightly, just enough that Alfred could feel it. Little thrusts, almost experimental, but it made the hand inside Alfred’s ass twitch and jerk as much as it could enveloped in his clenching muscles. It was then that Alfred realized exactly what he was doing, and he had to again bite down hard upon his knuckles to restrain the long moan that gushed from his breast. The man was masturbating himself, inside Alfred’s ass, his own hand gripping his cock even as both sheathed themselves in his tender membranes. The concept alone was beyond Alfred’s wildest comprehensions, and he could hardly contain the harsh blooming arousal that consumed him.

“You-!”

He could not finish his thought, wasn’t even sure what he had intended to say. With each gentle thrust the man’s hand shifted inside, rubbing his every nerve. The oil slurped obscenely as he moved, so loud in Alfred’s ears he was certain any passerby was sure to hear it, and the way his heartbeat pounded in his ears and in his cock.

“I can’t bear it!” he managed between his gasping breaths, shaking all over. Every part of him was so tightly wound, every vessel in his body beating the same tempo. Tears were beginning to squeeze their way from the corners of his eyes, brought on only by the intensity of the pleasure and the pain, a physical force no man could claim to contend with.

“Please,” Alfred begged, “use me up!”

The man did not answer him, so focused upon his own building completion. The constriction of his slick palm where it was clamped around his cock was only rivaled by how soft and hot the Executioner’s bowel was when he thrust deep enough to meet it. What he had heard about this man was entirely correct, it seemed, his seasoned ass sucking him in with every push of his cock. It was unbelievably hot to watch how he was swallowed down again and again, a flash of Alfred’s red insides accompanying each outward tug. He’d been so pent up, the beast inside him itching and biting, hearing the thick ichor in every man and woman’s veins as it thumped along. Alfred’s heart was fit to burst and he could almost taste it.

He came in hard, thick pumps, a viscous jism that was not quite like that of man surging inside Alfred’s hole without any warning. Losing himself to the orgasm, the man began to actually jerking his fist along with his thrusts, battering Alfred’s insides until he was wheezing with exertion. Alfred could not speak, the feeling of hot semen filling him overwhelming his senses. He was barely able to reach down and grasp at his own cock before his was cumming as well, sharp pulses of heat sparking in his prostate to his balls, which drew tight as he came all over himself. So overly sensitive was he that he could not help but cry out after the first wave had ebbed, the agony beating upon him just as torrid as the ecstasy.

With a wet slap the man pulled out, first his cock, still spewing its final sporadic reserves of cum, and then his hand, giving Alfred one final intense drag across his aching prostate. Now thoroughly wrecked, his ass could only gape outwards, his innards plainly visible, trying futilely to close. A little of what had been pumped into him now dribbled out, contained by nothing, cum and oil mixing to a milky froth. The sound it made was outrageously profane and if he had any semblance of a cognitive mind at the moment Alfred might have been ashamed.

“Ah, fuck me,” said the man, sitting back on his heels. Even as he did so he pressed a lazy finger to Alfred’s asshole, just because he could, pressing inside the swollen embrace of his flesh again just to feel him tremble. Alfred gazed with heavy eyes at the dark wall of the shed, cluttered with old and rusted tools and rotten timber, barely holding on to his consciousness, but he managed to lick the spittle from his lips and form words.

“Were… you satisfied?”

“Bloody hell, yes,” the man laughed. Alfred remained where he lay, hips in the air, exposing his drooling hole shamelessly.

“You so welcoming with all your friends?”

“Um,” said Alfred, not really understanding his meaning, cock still twitching with after spasms against his stomach. The man patted his rump like a good horse, beginning to put himself away.

“You need a hanky? I’ve only got the one meself.”

“No,” Alfred said slowly, though in reality he had nothing with which to wipe down his bottom. It simply felt wrong to impose himself upon the very man he was here to help. He would make do, as the many layers of his complicated vestments would cover any wet spots on his backside until he was able to return to the abbey and change. He simply hoped he would make it back before morning prayer – sitting in the pews amongst his brethren while cum still clung to his inner thighs was so devilish a thought his toes curled slightly again, balls contracting slightly as if he has anything left within them to expel. He was still gaping as well, something that would make standing, let alone walking, a problem in itself. What torture he had set himself up for!

As the man stood to exit the shed, he said, “Don’t worry about locking up.”

Alfred, from where he lay, gave the man his most compassionate smile.

“May the Good Blood guide your way.”

  



End file.
